


To my Moon, From your Sun

by SeaMint



Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, They Deserve This, fuck that bitch, georgie is therefore alive just not mentioned lmao, no pennywise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-04
Updated: 2017-12-04
Packaged: 2019-02-10 13:19:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12912744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeaMint/pseuds/SeaMint
Summary: I look at you like you’re the moon. I only wish you’d love me, too.Stan looks at the piece of paper he had just found in his locker. He turns it over, searching for a sign, a name, a number. There was none. He sighs and puts it in his notebook, along with all the ones he’d been getting all month.Alternatively: Bill leaves notes in Stan's locker and everyone knows except for him.





	To my Moon, From your Sun

**Author's Note:**

> sup have an OOC fic I don't care about
> 
> p.s. finally watched IT back in october and while it was amazing i keep forgetting to rewatch it so i forgot how certain characters act lmao

_I look at you like you’re the moon. I only wish you’d love me, too._

Stan looks at the piece of paper he had just found in his locker. He turns it over, searching for a sign, a name, a number. There was none. He sighs and puts it in his notebook, along with all the ones he’d been getting all month. 

Stan looks at everyone in the school, searching for a sign. Who would ever _love_ him? He sure as hell doesn’t. He gets to their usual lunch table, finding Richie already there. Richie seems to notice the fading befuddled look on Stan’s face. 

“Note person again?” He says, twirling the straw of a juice box in his fingers. He stabs the box, pressing on it a little too hard. Some of the orange liquid leaks.

“Yeah,” Stan answers, looking up from his stupid grey lunch just enough to see Richie smirk at his juice box. He gets the feeling Richie knows something, but he doesn’t prod. Note person will have to wait for Stan to get over a certain someone before they have a chance, anyways.

Beverly and Ben arrive soon enough, and so do Eddie and Bill. They each have grey mush, except for Ben and Eddie, who both brought their own lunches. 

“Oh wow Eddie, that from your mom? I—“

“You finish that fuckin’ sentence, Tozier, and your words aren’t gonna be the only things shoved back down your throat,” Eddie snaps, and the others turn away in shame at his unfortunate choice of words.

Before Richie can say anything, Stan forces himself to cough violently. It works, causing Richie to stop whatever joke he was going to say to look at Stan with concern glazing over his eyes. The others look at him, too. He figures it’s a price he can pay so he doesn’t have to witness Eddie shoving his whole lunch and a fork down Richie’s mouth.

“A-are you okay, S-stan?” Bill says, and the look he gives Stan twice-over gets him wishing it wasn’t just to check if he’s okay.

“Yeah,” He says, attempting another cough for good measure. “I just, uh,” He gives a noise quite similar to coughing, but not quite. “Choked.”

They don’t bother him much again, until Richie breaks away from his conversation with Eddie and says something. “So, Stan,” He says, poking through Eddie’s container of what seems to be salad. Stan assumes he’s looking for croutons that aren’t even there. “The search for Locker Note boy any good?”

“I honestly don’t even care anymore,” Stan says truthfully. “They’re nice and all, but I… already have someone,” He ducks his head to avoid looking at them. He panics, knowing they’ll start asking questions, so he shoots one back at Richie in an accusatory tone. “And what, boy? I don’t even know what they are, but you seem to. Tell me, Rich,” He grins, leaning his head on his hand. “You _know_ something, don’t you?”

Everyone seems to visibly tense at this, Richie especially. “Oh, so what if I do?” He quickly regains his composure. “You clearly said you don’t even care. Right, Eds?”

Eddie was too high-strung at the moment to correct the name. “Y-yeah, Yeah! _Yeah!_ ” He says the last one aggressively. Richie gives him a look, and they converse with those for a while. Bev rolls her eyes.

“So,” She says like a cat that’s found its prey. “You have someone, huh?” 

“Yeah,” Stan says, drifting off to Bill. “They’re, like, the best, and they’re really cute, and nice, and…”

“They have a name?” Eddie takes Richie’s juice box and takes a sip.

“Have a name? Oh, no, they were born nameless— _of course he has a name_ , Eddie,” Stan almost growls, and he doesn’t know why he’s being so irritable.

“So, they’re a he?” Ben joins in, and Stan can’t even pray for a good afterlife because fuck that. If Ben had joined in, he was nothing but doomed. 

“What’s his name?” Bev says excitedly, and Stan feels a headache in the making.

“I don’t want to tell you,” He says, cradling his head in his hand already. He places his elbow between his and Richie’s trays, grimacing in annoyance.

“Why not?” Bev pushes, and Stan thinks he might need to find some Tylenol later. The room isn’t that bright, so it’s sort of suspicious to see him covering his face that much with his hands.

“Nothing, just,” Stan doesn’t know what happened next. There’s a chair that’s been pushed, a gust of wind, and suddenly he’s in the clearing near the baseball field, Bill appearing at his side.

Stan had rushed out, and Bill followed.

“You didn’t say much during that whole ordeal,” Stan comments. Bill shrugs, and Stan observes how his bright red hair contrasts with the dull shade of the school’s brick wall. The sun beats down on them heavily, tinting Bill’s hair golden, and Stan gapes at how something could look so fiery yet so at peace.

“N-no, it–it clearly b-b-bothers y-you a l-lot,” Bill smiles, and Stan thinks if he were anything like Ben, Bill would be his Bev, writing poems about her cigarettes and hair and freckles and whatnot. Except it’d be about Bill and his bike and hair and freckles and whatnot. He was beautiful, and there was no point in denying that.

“B-but, d-d-do y-you m-m-mind t-telling m-me?” Bill says, tripping on his words a little too much for what Stan knows is his liking. 

“No,” Stan replies, eyes trained on the bright blue sky, an imprint of the sun already burning through his sight. Stan figures it would have looked cool if he had just taken a long drag from a cigarette before saying that, but he doesn’t smoke.

“I understand,” Bill turns to him, two short words clearly not enough room for a single stutter. There’s a pregnant pause between the two, and they watch the sky overlooking Derry. Just the two of them alone leaves a strange twisting in Stan. He figures he likes it. “Is it M-mike?”

“What?” Stan squints at Bill, and there’s a bright disk of light that isn’t really there blocking his face. He’s not sure is it’s purple or green or yellow, he just knows this is what he gets for looking at the sun.

“Y-you said you w-w-wouldn’t t-tell me, s-so I’m g-guessing,” Bill laughs, and it’s as angelic as it is mischievous. Stan rolls his eyes with a smile. 

“Smart-ass,” Stan grins at Bill, the bright light beginning to fade a little. “What makes you think I’m going to answer?”

“Uh,” Bill says, sounding like he’s about to say something obvious. “B-because you c-can’t r-r-resist me, duh.” Stan turns his head away from Bill and pretends to cough, trying to hide the growing blush on his face and the urge to agree.

"It's Shane, isn't it?" Bill smirks.

"Whomst the fuck?"

“F-from B-buzzfeed Unsolved!" Bill laughs, making Stan roll his eyes with a small smile on his own face.

"No. He curses too much for my liking," He shrugs. "I think he's more Eddie's type." Stan puts a hand to his head.

"Why? B-because he's a t-trashmouth?" They both snicker. "Y-you w-w-wanna go back?"

"Yeah," Stan hovers his hand over his eyes. "This did worse to my headache than I wanted it to." 

Bill takes his hand and leads him back inside. "Y-you w-want some m-meds for t-that? I'm sure Eddie h-has some in his p-pack," He asks while walking down the hall to the cafeteria. Stan shakes his head.

* * *

It's a day later and Stan's spending his recess in the school library. He's not so surprised when he sees Ben there too. He's about to approach him until he sees Bill with Ben. Suddenly he isn't too sure. 

"I t-think I s-s-should stop this," Bill, papers and calligraphy pens scattered in front of him, says. "It's c-clearly f-for nothing."

"Don't say that, Bill," Ben says as Stan hurries to squeeze himself behind a bookshelf closer to them so he can hear better. "Have a little hope."

"How? He l-l-likes someone else, he c-clearly adores that p-p-person e-enough not t-to—to care about the notes a-anymore, he looked s-so into him when he w-w-was telling us about the guy, too? Isn't t-that enough r-r-reason to end t-this?” Bill uses a thick black pen to angrily scratch off whatever he was writing on an index card.

"Bill, come on, one more note? If he really doesn't care about it anymore, Richie would have told us," Ben closes his book, leaving a thumb between pages. He pats Bill on the back with his free hand. 

Stan's eyes looked about ready to pop out of their sockets as he scrambles to the library entrance to make it seem like he wasn't just right next to them. He walks fast towards the two, making himself look frantic. 

"Guys," He whispers loudly, making his fists land on the table Bill and Ben were working on. "Can I have a piece of paper? And-and a pen, please, it's an emergency."

“W-what is it?" Bill says, handing him an index card and a ballpoint pen. 

"I think," Stan gasps excitedly, "I think I finally figured out who's writing me the notes, and I'd like to reply to him," He makes sure to smile brightly. "I'm pretty sure it's the guy I like."

Ben glances sadly at Bill, who kept staring at Stan. He didn't have anything in him to reply to what Stan had just said, so Ben says something instead. "Uh, good for you! I guess? What're you going to say?"

Stan shoots a smile at Bill, whose mouth was still agape, and still notreplying. "You'll find out soon enough." And he runs off. By the entrance of the library, he scribbles something on the paper in neat, small handwriting. He makes a mental note to give Bill his pen back after he shoves it in his pocket. He heads off to class, deciding to put the note into Bill's locker later.

* * *

Bill leaves maths at the end of the day with an A+ on his test and a frown on his face. Stan had not shown up during lunch, so he figured it might be because whoever this guy he thought was writing those notes had actually pretended that it was him.

(In reality, it was simply because Stan had spent lunch rewriting and rewriting the note on the index card until it was absolutely perfect.)

He stops by his locker, adamant on shoving his books in with a violent throw and biking home alone. He does, in fact, throw his books in, the thick blocks clanging against the metal loudly. He stutters out an apology to the guy next to him who had flinched in surprise. He turns back to his locker to find a small, handmade "envelope".

He opens it to find two pieces of paper stapled together, the second one noticeably stiffer than the first. His eyes widen when seeing his own handwriting on the thinner paper. He hurriedly flips to the second page. It's horribly covered in white-out and little apologies. He reads the print written boldly in the middle. Bill runs off to find Stan, wherever he may be.

_If I am the moon, then you are my sun: warm, bright, and giving me light._

**Author's Note:**

> yikes, @me, back at it again with ur cheesy delusions


End file.
